Shiny Aluminum Girl

I bet you taste like disappointment – empty, barely metal. Even knowing this I would be content to settle for the smallest sip – a finger tip traced against a neckline, an infinitely small but infinitely certain sign to wear forever after like a war wound from some battle. You retreated but you left me alive enough to tattle back to fogged mirrors, dark dashboards, needless cigarettes. It shouldn’t matter really any but for some reason I let it become everything else more. I should be knocking on your door. I should be telling you explicitly that I have come here for your love and am not leaving til you surrender yourself. That is it, there’s no other, absolutely nothing else.